End of the World
by AsWeAreNow
Summary: Someone is out to get the former Axis and Allies. Even worse, when they meet up to discuss what to do everyone starts acting weird. Like, really, really, that's-totally-not-cool-dude weird. Rated M for Malcohol.
1. Chapter One

Someone was after the former Allies and Axis. Multiple people actually. A group, maybe?

They didn't know who, but America's houses had been burned down. Thankfully, no one knew about the mansion or the apartments in New York, and the fire never spread to other houses from his own.

Russia and China both felt like they were being stalked.

England had had his phone lines cut, but he had immediately left, not wishing to deal with death that day.

France had been flirting with someone when suddenly an unknown person pulled a gun on him. Even if he or she had gotten the chance to use it, though, France would've been okay— and everyone was perhaps the least concerned about him.

Italy had been rather upset to see that a lot of things had been stolen from his house one day.

Japan had heard multiple strange noises in his house.

So yeah, someone was after them.

All eight of them had met up at a rendezvous point in the middle of God Knows Where, Russia.

As with every meeting, it was chaos. It all started with America saying, "Well, this is it, I guess. We're all going to die." And with that, he pulled out a lighter and then rummaged around his backpack.

"Hey, I didn't know you smoked!" England exclaimed.

"It doesn't matter now. First of all, don't be dramatic, and second, can you pass a cigarette to Big Brother France?"

America sighed. "I don't smoke," he said, his voice muffled. He was holding a bag of marshmallows from between his teeth, and a stick in the other hand. He zipped up his backpack, frowning.

"Why the hell did you bring a backpack?" England asked.

"Better to be prepared."

"You brought marshmallows."

"And a flashlight," America said. "Anyway, leave me alone. I wanna roast marshmallows in peace." And with that, he sat on the ground, holding a marshmallow on a stick in one hand and the lighter in another.

"America, you're going to die. Think of all the chemicals that are in that."

America laughed. "I never said it was safe! What does it matter if the world is going to end? And besides, what a fitting way to go. All my houses were burned down, and I will die—,"

"Don't be dramatic," England repeated, and then, "And don't say you're going to die."

"Okay, so we need to discuss what we plan to do about this," Germany barked, causing all of them to jump. Germany slammed his hand on the table.

"I'm mot sha—img my ma-shmallows," America said from the corner.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," England scolded.

"How about we make food?" Italy asked. "I can make p—,"

"That's it! China and I can make the most delightful food! Much better than the rest of yours!" France called out suddenly.

"That actually sounds like a good idea. At least one thing out of your thick skulls," China said, and he followed France into the kitchen. (As with every single place used to host World Meetings, it was stocked with food and various supplies for the nations' comfort.)

England sighed. "I can try to use magic to see what's going on," he said, and then he stomped into another room.

So that left Italy, Japan, Russia, America, and Germany in the main room. "I don't like this," Japan said. "It's not good to spread out. That's how they always die in the horror movies."

"Oh, that's scary," America retorted. "You shouldn't say things like that, you know."

"And what's it matter to you if I do?" Japan demanded. "You never have to watch horror movies, you know. I think maybe you wouldn't be such an absolute coward if you didn't."

"You're calling me a coward?" America stood up.

And soon they were arguing. Neither of them ever fought, not in the way England and France did, much less with each other. But they were arguing. It got extremely loud, with Japan being the louder and more aggressive of the two.

Italy watched from the corner. "Germany! Help!"

"It's fine. It's none of our business," Germany said. Somehow, he had managed to get a bottle of beer. Actually, he had managed to get four or five. He was getting pissed.

"Quit it, America," Russia exclaimed, "or I'll beat you with my pipe! You're making too much noise!" But he hadn't put his heart into the threat. Now that he thought about it, he didn't think he could carry out violence against anything ever again.

America didn't heed the warning, and Russia turned to see that he hadn't brought his pipe.

China and France came out. "We can't make anything! All of the food keeps catching fire!" They were both out of breath.

Italy jumped up. "I'll make pasta!" He cried, and then he sprang into the kitchen, closing the door and willing it closed.

(Linebreak.)

Italy was very much scared, and it didn't help that everyone was acting so weird. Japan should agree with America, and France and China should be able to make food, and Russia should have his pipe, and Germany should be perfectly serious. Yes, that was the way the world should be.

Italy cowered underneath the table. _Why is everyone acting so scary? _He thought, tears coming to his eyes.

Eventually, he did come out from underneath the table. He lost himself in making pasta, a familiar ritual. He did it rather mindlessly. Everything was going fine until he dropped the bowl of pasta. He almost started crying again, but decided instead to make another bowl of pasta. Food was sure to bring everyone to their senses.

And then he dropped another bowl.

(Linebreak.)

England sprinted away from the room, flustered. "I can't perform any ma—!" His voice cut off to an ungodly squeak. America and Japan were both incredibly angry and incredibly violent (and while both were extremely terrifying, Japan was definitely scarier, even if America seemed more dangerous).

And then suddenly, "Nope. Nope. I'm done. Fuck all of you. I don't even want to be here. Goodbye." And America went into another room and slammed the door shut.

Japan, meanwhile, said, "I should never have talked to any of you," and marched off in the opposite direction, going into another room and closing the door softly.

Italy bursted out of the kitchen, looking around in confusion before saying, "I can't make pasta!"

"England," France said. "England, you need to try your magic again."

England felt vaguely offended— _who was France to tell him to do something? _But he didn't feel like punching France's stupid face in, and he obeyed. So they went into another room. "Okay, everyone. Shut the fuck up now, I have to concentrate."

There was a sudden blast and all of them— that was to say Italy, England, China, France, Russia, and Germany— were thrown against the wall. England quickly recovered. Japan was sitting in the room on a chair, reading. But America—

"Why the fuck is America making flow charts?"

And so, the end of the World stomped forward, swaying on unsteady legs. Shockwaves raced across the whole world. Every nation shuddered suddenly, filled with dread.

Every nation except for Switzerland and Liechtenstein.

**A review would be wonderful. Have a wonderful day/night. Stay safe, everybody. Make sure to drink plenty of water. **


	2. Chapter 2

They ignored America and Japan. Nations tend to crave attention, even the ones that seem like they'd be happy with solitude. France and China made dinner. The food was significantly burnt, but it was good enough.

America crept out first but refused to eat, claiming some shit about intermittent fasting. That didn't seem quite proper, but nobody was going to force him to eat. Instead he chewed on cinnamon gum. England asked him why cinnamon when mint seemed to get more popularity as an appetite suppressant; America replied, with a rather toothy grin, that he hated cinnamon and it was his least favorite flavor of gum. England just frowned and looked away.

Japan left his room later and ate cold leftovers. America and Japan seemed on well enough terms again, a fact that everyone was secretly relieved by.

America perked up and said, "We should go camping!"

"What?" China looked up. "How? Did you forget that it's cold out and people want to murder us?"

America shook his head. "Indoors. One of the rooms has a nine-person tent. I put it there. C'mon, think about it. Wouldn't it be better for us to group up?"

"No." England stood up. "I'm not going to sleep in a big ass tent with other nations."

America frowned. "Why not?"

"Why are you so intent on sleeping in a tent?"

"I'm terrified all the time." America smiled at him again.

"Aren't you supposed to be the hero?"

"I don't have a gun. I'm terrified."

England grimaced at him. "You've got superhuman strength and you're afraid without a weapon? Why do you need a weapon to feel secure?"

"The world is scary and it's your fault. Please sleep in a tent with me." He seemed to address the entire group, but he was still staring at England.

England opened and closed his mouth several times and then finally said, "No." The other nations agreed, except for Japan (who was back to agreeing with America again).

(Linebreak.)

The nations sat in the meeting room and started discussing what to do next. America didn't want to be there, but Russia forced him to stay by threatening to physically hold him down if he wouldn't sit still and talk.

Germany suggested they each call their respective governments to come pick them up. Italy, France and England all agreed that they ought to do this; Japan said nothing; China and Russia both looked faintly displeased but didn't outright disagree; America said he didn't want to pester his government about something so inconsequential, to which England snapped that he had no appeal for self-preservation and probably no instinct for it either.

Germany went up to make a phone call. France was persuaded out of calling by England, who seemed to have changed his mind about calling after all. Italy didn't want to go against the trend, so he didn't call.

America plopped himself down next to Italy and started whispering, but other than that there was a silence that hung over them. Germany came back and announced that the landline wasn't working; it was rather outdated, after all, and no one had actually ever used it before to see if it worked. There was no service due to the shitty weather, so they were fucked until morning, at least.

Italy blurted, at that moment, "Germany, I want to bring out the tent!" He looked around at everybody and said, "I'm scared!" And it was clear what America had done. Not only was America a very paranoid person, he was rather gifted at fear-mongering- talented, at least, for a nation that had always been infatuated with the ideas of Democracy and liberty and freedom and all that bullshit that can't ever really exist.

Germany sighed and said fine, they could bring out the tent. America set it up, and from there all of the nations were quick to go inside it.

They sat in a circle. It was a rather intimate setting for eight people, despite being a nine-person tent. They weren't required to sit very close together, but America insisted on sitting very close to literally anybody that wouldn't immediately snap at him- so Russia, apparently, although he could've just as easily sat next to Japan or France.

England left the tent briefly and came back with a bottle of absinthe, proposing that they drink to pass the time. Japan was a bit uneasy, but nobody listened to him. America was somehow most eager to drink, but then, he'd been drinking since he was a biological toddler and had only stopped once he wasn't allowed to anymore. Still, he complained about how it tasted like licorice (as he despised licorice), but England told him to shut the hell up because it definitely didn't taste like licorice.

They soon ran into a problem, which was of course that they were supposed to drink in the dark. That was all well good when alone, but a bit more of a problem when in a group of eight. France turned his phone's flashlight on and haphazardly attached it to the top of the tent with what seemed like a combination of luck and sheer force of will.

The nations passed the bottle back and forth for a while, cringing at the strong taste. No sugar; they just dealt with it, as they were all nations and fairly old ones in the end.

They said nothing for a long time until America laughed and said, "Okay, we should share our biggest secrets- the ones we can, of course. I'll go first," he rushed ahead without hesitation. "I'm starting to think that the values I once believed in are unable to thrive in my climate," he slurred as he crawled over and hooked an arm around China, smiling faintly as he took the bottle from the older nation's hands. China just stared at him for a moment and then said nothing. He took a sip and then continued, "and the only escape I get from being such a goddamn sellout to anybody who'll have me is cocaine, and I don't think things are ever going to get better. I hate myself so much and I'm called anti-American by about a fourth of my own citizens whenever there's a discussion about politics- and there's always a discussion about politics- and they say it so nonchalantly, too, and I think sometimes that I've gotta be the terrorist they call me- you know, the horrible, immoral psychopath that should be hanged- but if there's any reason I don't deserve to exist, it's not any of that. I know that I wouldn't sell out the way I have been, the way I do, and I know that I wouldn't give up some parts of my global influence or make generally reckless decisions out of pure spite and a willingness for self-destruction, but clearly I'm not the person I thought I was. I want someone, anyone, to help me, but as a nation I know that if I can't help myself I'm too far gone. I think I'm a traitor to my country like they say, but the problem is that I don't know if I'm supposed to be loyal to my people or loyal to my government. I used to think I was special, you know, since I didn't really have to obey my boss, even if it was beneficial to them and they'd rather my cooperation. I suppose that's why I'm never given proper assignments. I feel like a sellout, and if that's really the case and all my ideals really are fucked, then I can't say I stand for the people anymore. I still can't say I'll always stand with my government, though, and it's one or the other over here. Not that they're against each other, but everybody picks sides. Some days I think I don't stand for anything at all-,"

"Brevity is a gift," England interrupted, "but fucking hell, America. That's depressing." America was about to say something when England continued, "chin up and give me the alcohol." America handed it over, unwrapping himself from China and refusing to look at him. Nobody said anything else about it, as it was pretty common for a nation to go through an identity crisis.

"Okay, I guess it's my turn," England said. "I wish all my former colonies would leave me the hell alone because I don't deserve to speak to them. Colonies aren't really that healthy, and I hate thinking about the things I did to them personally. I think I must be doing something to manipulate them into Christmas calls and shit because they shouldn't like me at all. None of them should, but America, you don't count."

"I never do."

England passed the bottle to Germany. A good portion of it was gone. They were probably far past the legal limit, but they were nations and thus much more tolerant. It didn't matter in the end anyway. Germany just stared at the bottom of the bottle for a moment, not bothering to take another swig.

"I regret everything," Germany said shortly. "That's my darkest secret. I'm never going to move on from what I've done because it's important to keep that lesson, and I know that I lost, but it bothers me that not every nation spends so long teaching about the mistakes I made and how my people were manipulated. It bothers me because I think, sometimes, that something like that is still possible. Especially any time a nation is already on its knees, or any time they feel they should be. So I guess it's not too dark at all, only warranted. I'm just afraid." Germany passed the bottle to Japan.

Japan said something along the same lines and turned to pass the bottle to Italy, but Italy was already asleep, so he reached over and handed it to France.

France just smiled. He was pretty wasted- they all were- and it seemed to reflect for once. He smiled emptily, just staring at the label. The bottle was almost empty, and no one was too keen on drinking the last bit. "I don't like being a nation. I think things could've been better in a different life or a decent afterlife, but it's not like any of us will ever know."

"Speak for yourself, asshat," England replied.

France passed the bottle to Russia. Russia shrugged, took a drink, and passed it to China. China took a large sip without hesitation, and then said, "I don't like any of you and I wish I wasn't here right now. I don't like being a superpower solely because of all of you, but the power aspect is fine."

America laughed at that and then scooted over, closer to England, to go to sleep. The rest of them spread out for the most part, as much as possible in a nine-person tent. For some reason they weren't willing to leave it. China hissed, "Don't touch me, Russia," and accidentally knocked into France in his attempt to get away. Within five minutes everyone was asleep.

(Linebreak.)

They all woke up with horrible migraines. America didn't want headache medicine or water, instead saying he just wanted to suffer through this. All the others diligently fought off a hangover. They all sat at the table and said little, realizing that each of them (except for Italy) remembered the previous night.

"What do you think is happening to all the other countries?" Germany asked.

"What?" France looked up, followed by all of the present nations collectively beginning to pay attention.

"You know, Hungary and Canada and the lot of them. Even if they're just going after combatants from the World Wars, that's still a lot of countries," England butted in. He looked rather concerned now.

"Who cares about the rest of them?"

"Fair point."

**Sorry for this being so America-centric. I tried to make this lighter, but while the general concept of nations sitting and talking about what they regret while sitting in a big ass tent and sharing a bottle like children is funny to me regardless of how serious the subject matter is, it occurs to me that perhaps others might get a bit depressed by it. **

**So anyway, why bother updating this story eleven months later? Last night I had this sudden urge to write something where the nations go camping, but indoors, just for the absurdity of it. I remembered that I never marked this story as completed, and I thought, huh, an update would be cool. So here we are, my dudes.**

**A review'd be great because it just would be. Have an excellent day/night and stay safe. **


End file.
